


All We Hear Is

by Morpheus626



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:35:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25042501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morpheus626/pseuds/Morpheus626
Summary: A cute little Queen piece that was stuck in my head! Set in the early days of Queen (around A Night at the Opera tour, since they went to NYC that tour, though I’ve wiggled around some of the timing in terms of how much of a break they’d have before playing the show in NYC, more detail is in the fic which you’ll notice if you recall the general timeline for that tour) which means: not always having access to a private plane, and not yet having an entourage around to help one get through an airport with minimal issues.But things work out, somehow.
Kudos: 20





	All We Hear Is

Normally, flying was a calm affair. Boring, and consisting of far too much sitting around and waiting, only to sit on a plane and wait some more. 

This particular set of flights, however, had been anything but. 

The first flight being delayed by several hours was irritating, but manageable. This was the first stop on the tour, and they had planned to head to the location a week in advance. A sort of mini-vacation, prior to the hustle and non-stop work of touring, that meant there was some leeway regarding time and when they needed to be there. 

That the first flight then could only accommodate two of them, despite four seats having been promised was…more irritating. 

“We should have flown privately,” Roger grumbled. 

“We’re in a private lounge, at least,” John said, and gestured to the room, empty except for them, intended for the pilots and/or guests who needed to kept away from well-meaning but over-excitable fans. 

“Who’s going?” the airport employee sighed. “Come on, two of you, now. We’re already late-” 

“Oh yes, we’re very aware of that,” Roger interrupted, plucking his cigarette from his lips. “We’ve been sitting here, waiting for this flight, for seven hours! We got here at eight in the morning, for fuck’s sake. Ridiculous.” 

“Okay then,” the employee snapped. “You go last. You two-” 

He pointed to John and Brian. 

“You two go now. All of your bags are loaded on this flight, so you can watch the luggage for these two,” 

He shot daggers at Roger and Freddie.

“Who will have to wait for the next flight that can take them. Might be another seven hours.” 

Before any of them could properly protest, the employee was dragging John and Brian out by their arms, the door to the lounge slammed shut behind them. 

“Can you believe that?” Roger scoffed. “What an ass.” 

“I…believe we’re all very tired, and sick of being in this airport. That employee included.” 

“But…ugh. You’re right. I still hate this though,” Roger sighed, and swung his legs over to occupy the part of his couch that had previously held Brian. “Better not be another seven hours.” 

“I’m sure it won’t be,” Freddie soothed, and tried to believe, even as one hour bled into two, then three, then four. 

By the time hour seven hit, they were both sleeping hard. Which made it all the more difficult to protest as yet another apparently over-worked and angry airport employee woke Freddie. 

“We have one seat left, come along.” 

“No, no, Roger-” 

“You sound just like your two friends my coworker dealt with earlier. ‘Oh but what about the others?’ We’ll make sure you all get there, just…not like we previously intended. Now, we do apologize for your wait and all the trouble but if you want to get there as quickly as possible, then you need to take this seat, and go now. My coworker said your friend in there agreed to go last.” 

“That is not what happened,” Freddie started to say, but the employee only pushed him along until he was sat on the plane, still groggy and frustrated with the whole situation. 

Arriving at the next airport in New York City was no better. He was wrangled to a floor of the massive thing that had been set aside for them, a safe zone away from any prying eyes or over-zealous fans, but that was also partially under renovation. It was a mess, with minimal safety lights on, and no sign of Brian or John anywhere. 

“Absolute fucking nonsense,” he spat to the closed door he’d been unceremoniously shoved through. The airport employee almost certainly couldn’t hear him, but it was still cathartic. 

The flight had been yet another seven hours, and the reality of five A.M. was painful as he walked around the empty and still somewhat dark floor. It was deathly silent, enough that he half wondered if John and Brian had just taken all of their luggage and left. Which would have been understandable, but also another layer of frustration upon a layer cake of anger that was already threatening to topple over and cover everything in icing. 

Luckily, there were clues to lead him to their trail. 

To start, a set of empty plates with remnants of toast on one and salad on the other. They’d been fed, not much, but something at least. 

But that had to have been hours ago, or they still would have been there, surely. 

A set of clogs, likely angrily discarded in a fit of frustration, were near one wall. He collected them, and was delighted to be able to drop them near their owner, who was flopped face first onto the floor not far away, near a window that he figured offered a wonderful view of the night sky, when it had still been night. 

“Brian?” 

The head of dark curls popped up, but only one eye opened. “Hm?” 

“Where’s John?” 

“Dunno. He was still upset when I made camp here, talked about going to walk it off. He’s got to be somewhere here though, he wouldn’t leave without us.” 

Brian slipped on his clogs, and they started their journey anew. 

“Why on earth is this floor so goddamned big? There’s already multiple floors to this thing, what purpose can this serve. You’d never find your next gate without a map,” Freddie muttered. 

“There’s one,” Brian pointed to a half-covered podium. “Doesn’t look finished though.” 

“I was joking,” Freddie sighed. “We might need whatever of it is done to find John though.” 

“Find me where?” 

“Fucking-” They had both jumped a foot at John’s ghost-like appearance behind them, but it was Freddie’s shout that echoed down the corridors. “Where the fuck have you been?” 

John shrugged. “Here. Around. Feeling better now, though I’m still pissed Roger isn’t here yet. Didn’t they send him over with you?” 

“No, they only had the one seat. That arsehole of an employee made up some shit about Roger volunteering to go last, so they dragged me away and now,” Freddie threw up his arms. “Here we are.” 

“He cannot find out they said that,” Brian shook his head. 

“Oh no, we aren’t telling him. If he asks…” Freddie hesitated. No one ever wanted to lie to a friend, but the whole situation had been so upsetting already. 

“We just tell him what happened. There was only one seat, and they made you take it, otherwise you’d have stayed with him,” John said. 

Nods all around for that, though it didn’t matter much at the moment. There was still no sight or sound of Roger. 

Three hours later, still nothing. 

Four, an employee arrived to tell them their hotel called, and their rooms were ready. A car had been prepared to take them over, while another car had already taken their luggage to the hotel. They summarily told him to fuck off, that they’d go once Roger was there with them, and no sooner. 

Hours Five, Six, and Seven passed with a mixture of naps and what they dubbed ‘Napkin Scrabble’ because it consisted of a board drawn out on several napkins left over from Brian and John’s earlier snacks, with another napkin serving as the pile of letter tiles (aka the appropriate number of each letter written on it, then crossed off as they assigned each other random but nonexistent tiles.) 

When the eighth hour had passed, however, so had any feelings of surety that Roger had made it safely over, or had been sent over at all, and it was John who they sent sneaking out of the floor to find an employee and ask where on earth Roger could be. 

“They put him in here when he arrived, two hours ago, apparently,” John reported back. “But I have a hard fucking time believing it, because if they did, then where the fuck is he?” 

“We would have heard him,” Brian agreed. “I’m sure he was fuming mad. I mean…it’s been over a day of this mess. There’s no way he just waltzed in and settled down somewhere.” 

Freddie nodded. “I have an idea on how to find him. Now, it’ll be a bit weird-” 

“You say that when we’re in the studio as well, and it always turns out fine,” Brian said. “Weird works, for us. What is it?” 

Brian and John jumped, then grinned as Freddie’s voice echoed through the empty halls. It was a familiar sound to them all by now, the ups and downs and volleys and valleys of his warm-up vocals. 

Familiar enough to be a homing call. 

They couldn’t see him at first, but Roger’s voice bounced back to them off the walls, sounding tired but excited, mimicking the warm-ups. 

He could only compare it to seeing a happy puppy who’d been away from home, right down to the fur coat Roger wore, the excess of it bouncing on his skinny frame as he jogged round the corner and down the hall to them. 

He fell into Freddie’s arms with a sigh. “I hate this fucking airport. I hated the last one as well, but I really hate this one.” 

“I know,” Freddie soothed. “Come on. We’ve got a hotel that awaits, with no flights to catch or travel to worry about until…well, later on for the concert, but we’re not thinking about that now. Just a nice, mildly comfortable hotel room, and time to relax.” 

The airport was busy enough that no one seemed to take notice of them, a blessed thing. As sweet as the fans were, this wasn’t the time for a swarm, no matter how respectful they might be. It was quite cozy as it was, just the four of them tucked up close to each other, maneuvering past the crowds. He felt rather like a mother hen, with Roger close to one side, John at the other, and Brian right on his heels, all of them piling into a cab with a driver who definitely recognized them, but said not a word about it as he drove. 

Just their little brood, finally free of the curse of the airport, on the way to better.

After the concert, and whatever might come after it,

Though hopefully, no more ridiculous travel issues and labyrinthine airport floors, at the very least. 

Anything other than that, they could handle together.


End file.
